Keeping It Together
by racefh853629
Summary: You hate this more than anything. The waiting, the praying, the hoping. But you know he's probably thinking things that're even worse. Possible spoilers for the new season.


A/N: I don't own CSI:NY, CBS, or any other known entity. Second person POV, and I think you guys can tell who it revolves around. Possible spoilers for the new season (well, basically the premiere). I hope you all enjoy, and please review. :)

* * *

Keeping It Together

You hate this.

You hate the uncertainty, the hoping, the praying. The anticipation for answers, the fear of what's to come. Worry about the worst, fingers crossed for the best. You think about how he must be feeling. Scared, maybe, but he'd never admit it. Hurt, possibly, but again, he'd never admit it. Angry, definitely.

You don't blame him. If you were him, you'd be just as pissed. He was manipulated by a suspect, kidnapped from a crime scene, and is being held hostage by the suspect, who may or may not have a loaded weapon with him.

You'd be pissed too, if you were in his shoes.

But focusing on how he's feeling and what he's thinking isn't going to find him. It may help find a trail, but there's not much to go on. The BOLO's already out on the car, but no luck so far. The more you have to wait, the angrier you get, the more consumed you get.

He's your best friend, your closest confidante, someone you trust with your life. You've worked side by side with him for more years than you can count, almost to the point where you can't remember him _not_ being in your life.

You've been together through better and worse.

And now, he needs your help. But you're powerless to do anything. All your leads have been exhausted. You're caught in the middle of a very frustrating waiting game. This is worse than the day he was caught in the bomb blast, because at least then, you knew where he was.

You don't even have that now.

You slam your fist into your desk, causing the people around you to jump and look up. You glance quickly at their faces, the faces that share the same concern and worry that yours does. Only, theirs are different. They haven't worked with him as long as you have. They don't know him like you do. You all love him as coworkers love one another, but he's more to you.

He's a key point in your life. Not in a romantic way, no. You two have never crossed that boundary. But he's one of the only people that can rile you up and then snap you back into line. He can read you so well, and tends to know what you need better than you do. He's always been there for you, and always will be there for you.

You hope, anyway.

You ask the others if they have anything, trying to get them to stop staring at you. They mutter negative responses, and you grunt in frustration. All this lab equipment, and you still can't find him. Ironically enough, a few weeks ago, he was saying the same thing. You shake your head at that thought. That doesn't matter now. You need to focus on finding him before the unthinkable happens.

There the seed goes into your head.

The unthinkable. Death, in other words. His death, to be frank. It's not unthinkable in the sense that it's impossible, but more in the sense that you don't _want_ to think it's possible. But it is. It's a real thought, one that eats at you. Once the seed gets planted, it grows quickly. It festers and leeches like a poison into your conscious thoughts until it completely consumes your mind.

You don't want it to get to that point. But as time goes on, you have no choice.

You slam your fist into the desk again, desperate to feel something other than the mounting anticipatory fear. Pain crashes over you, coming to the forefront of your mind as endorphins get released into your bloodstream. It's a good feeling release, in a sense, pain aside.

You get up, leaving the room, muttering something about needing coffee. You keep your head down, avoiding their glances as you quickly leave for the break room. You hear footsteps following you, and without looking, you know who it is. Because only one person in that room would've bothered to follow you. The one who sat by your side for hours to try to help you piece your world back together.

He puts his hand gently on your shoulder, not really saying anything. He's good about that, as you learned two years ago. He tells you that he understands what you're feeling, but that you need to calm down a bit. Your missing friend needs you to have a clear head, he reminds you.

You tell him that you can't help it. You're worried sick about your missing friend, and that you can't focus because the only thing your mind sees is worst case scenario. You know your friend's stronger than that, but you can't help but think the worst. Tears begin to fall as you explain yourself, and he wraps his arms around you comfortingly.

He understands, he tells you. He wants to help your friend just as badly as you do. You nod your understanding at his words, and he holds you quietly for a minute. But, he reminds you, you have a job to do, and you can't do it like this.

You tell him that you know, but that you can't help it.

He tells you he understands, and is here to help you. You nod again, and he rubs your back gently. He tells you to hope for the best, because if anyone would survive this mess, it'd be your friend. After all, he reminds you, your friend did survive being blown up.

You chuckle softly and nod, hugging him and thanking him for bringing you back.

No sweat, he says, and the two of you walk back to the office, ready to keep going. Your friend's still out there, and you have to find him. As you sit down, your cell phone rings, and you jump to answer it.

It's your friend, saying he's not quite sure where he is. He can see the Statue in the background, and he thinks he may be in New Jersey.

You ask him what number he's calling from, so the techs can start the triangulation.

He tells you, and gives you details about what's around him. You jot them down on your notepad as he talks, silently thanking God that he's okay and can talk to you right now. He tells you he's sitting down on the side of the road, and you ask him if he's injured. He says he's not, but you know better than that. He'd never tell you the truth anyway.

You tell him to hang tight, that they know where he is, and that you're on your way to find him.

He tells you he'll be fine, just to hurry, because he needs to get back to work and find this guy. You chuckle softly, because that's a typical response from him.

You tell him you'll be there soon, and you hang up, informing everyone that he's okay. Every face in the room breaks into a smile, knowing that their friend, colleague, and leader would be okay. You rush out to get him, leaving them behind to try to find more clues to the case.

Because that's what you all do. And this guy definitely needs a trip through the justice system. But, that can be thought of a little later. Right now, it's about getting to him and making sure he's okay.

Even if he denies it.

The End.

* * *

A/N2: If you're confused, I apologize, and will explain here. 'He' in the beginning is Mac, who becomes 'your friend' when Flack (the one who follows her) comes in. When 'he' calls, 'he' is once again Mac. Again, I'm sorry if I confused any of you, but that's also why I'm putting this note here. I wanted to avoid names. ;)


End file.
